Local Man Ruins Everything
by Mattycollns13
Summary: Sequel to Doghouse. Dean is set to take on Triple H at Roadblock. When things don't go according to plan, Dean's demons eat at him to a point that scares his friend. Becky makes sure Dean knows she will be there.


Becky was not booked tonight, which made her night considerably more entertaining by the simple fact she could be backstage at Roadblock and just be a fan. She was not dressed to compete and instead had on an Ambrose Asylum shirt she had bought a month or two ago after her and Dean became friends. She was repping it proudly backstage the entire night, and sat in Dean's locker room watching the monitor.

He had been jittery all day in the car, and in the locker room it got worse. She had to, more than once, pull him to sit down on the bench with her by his belt when he wouldn't stop pacing. She had jumped up and let him use her hands to shadow box and let out some more nervous energy. She knew he could do it. She knew that he could beat Triple H. And she made sure he knew how much she believed in him, talking him up the whole day. Telling him how proud she was of him, and that she believed in him, and how great a champion he would be.

Right before he had left the room she had kissed his cheek and shoved him out in the hallway for good luck. He'd left with a tiny wave and a determined smile, his hair already dripping from the water he'd sprayed on it. She had gone back and made herself comfortable on the bench, taking his leather jacket and putting it on so she could warm herself in the cold arena. And, of course, it had the added bonus of it being super comfortable.

She felt like a little girl again, watching wrestling with her brother back in Ireland. She just had an extra dog in the fight for the championship match where the challenger was her best friend. But she settled in for a good match and cheered loudly even though she was alone in Dean's locker room. She grinned as Dean wiggled on the floor and did the DX crotch chop. He had told her he wanted to do that to Triple H so badly and that he hoped he got the opportunity. She jumped up from her seat when Dean hit Dirty Deeds and hooked the leg. 1,2,3! Becky threw her hands up, her hair going in every direction as she bounced up and down. He had done it!

She heard some commotion on the monitor and felt her stomach clench. They reversed the decision on account of Dean's foot being under the ropes. She growled and sat back down, hoping he would end this again. She watched with a continued sinking feeling as Triple H hit Dean with a pedigree. She didn't have any time to feel sad for her friend as she was sprinting down from his locker room towards gorilla. He had been so damn close.

She got there, still in her Dean Ambrose gear as well as Dean's jacket and saw Triple H come through the curtain. She glared at him while he sneered at her. He tried to move by her but she stood in his way and bumped his shoulder coming through. She didn't pause to look back, but focused on waiting for Dean to come back through the curtain.

She watched his stagger through, trying to get away from the referee that was trying to help him. She caught him as he stumbled and wrapped an arm around his waist leading him down a hallway, the opposite direction of where Triple H had gone. He felt almost like dead weight in her arms as she hauled him through to where no one would find them for a while.

Dean had said nothing, which was unlike him, especially after a match. She would find him bursting into the locker room with insults to his opponents or cursing them if he had lost. She had never encountered silent Dean after a match. She grew worried as she carried him down one last hallway before putting him against a production crate. She dropped down next to him and, since he didn't speak, she figured she'd start.

Trying to lessen the tension that lingered in the air as Dean simply stared down at the floor, his fringe hanging over his eyes, blocking Becky's view of them, Becky said, "You should lay off the burgers, Ambrose. You're heavy." Her teasing smile dropped when he didn't say anything. She saw a drip of sweat fall to the ground from his nose and sighed. "Talk to me, Dean. This isn't like you after a match. I need you to tell me what you're thinking, so I can help."

"You can't." she heard him whisper. She heard him take in a deep breath, "Why are you still here, Becky? I lost. You believed in me and I lost." Becky felt her heart breaking as he continued, "Every fucking time it's something else that gets in the way. And I always fall for that little glimmer of hope that I can do it, before I fail and prove all the voices in my head right."

Becky was balling her fists so hard that she was sure her nails were drawing blood. "You can't think this about yourself, Dean. You tell me all the time that I'm not useless or a footnote. You inspire me to be better and not believe it when people say that about me even myself."

Dean's head whipped back and slammed itself into the production crate, HARD. Becky's eyes flew open and she rushed to put her arm up to stop Dean who was repeatedly bashing his head against the crate. She got him in a firm headlock and pulled him down. "I can't help it! I hate myself. I always have and I just can't-" He tried to break free of her, but she held on tight. He tried to push at her arms, but he was still tired from his match so eventually he stopped struggling.

Becky held on longer than was necessary. She eventually loosened her grip enough that he was resting in her arms more comfortably. One of her hands began running soothingly through his hair while she rocked him back and forth against the wall. She hummed a quiet tune, close to the top of his head, hoping that the white noise would help soothe whatever his head was yelling at him. It was a tune that she had heard Dean whistle a time or two while he had been driving. She had always assumed it was from his childhood, but knowing Dean it could be from some gum commercial that he had seen on television. She didn't care as long as it helped soothe him.

When he was completely limp in her arms, and had stopped whimpering she lowered him into her lap. He lay there, facing away from her, letting her run her nails through his hair. She knew that if he was gonna talk, he would be able to do it a bit easier if they weren't looking at each other.

His breathing seemed to even out, but she kept her hand in his hair. She applied a decent amount of pressure to make sure he was still with her and not floating off into his headspace. She heard him quietly lick his lips. "I feel like a hypocrite sometimes, y'know? I tell you all this stuff, and you say it inspires you, yet I can't even believe my own words. I'm a goddamn hypocrite cause this is what I'm reduced to. Tonight, when the Shield broke up, after Money in the Bank last year… "

Becky felt tears prickle in her eyes, but she forced her voice to remain strong, "I don't think you are a hypocrite. I still think your inspiring. Not everyone can be strong all the time, and everyone has doubts. It makes us human, it gives us that experience to pass onto other people."

Dean pushed his head into her hand, apparently liking her fingers combing through his hair, "I'm sorry, Irish. I just can't switch this on and off. I let you down tonight, and changing my mood ain't gonna be an easy fix."

Becky stopped her hand as the realization hit her, "You're expecting me to leave, aren't you?"

Dean shrugged, "I'm used to it. I'd understand."

Becky couldn't hold it off any longer and let a couple of angry tears slip out. "I was used to it too, and it made me feel lonely and replaceable. Then I found you, or rather you found me. If you think I'm leaving then you are dead wrong."

Dean stiffened as she talked, "I just seems like I never outgrew the monsters that lived under my bed or in my closet. They just moved…" he tapped his temple. "It's gonna get like this sometimes, Irish. I'm dangerous to be around like this."

Becky went back through his hair, making sure to rub against his temple, "I'm not leaving, Dean. No matter how many times I have to sit with you like this. You'd do the same for me. You have done the same for me. We're best friends and I'm here for everything, good and bad." She leaned her head back against the wall and thought for a moment, "In fact, you have the next couple days off too right?"

Dean gave a small nod, still letting her run her fingers through his hair. Becky smiled, "You have two choices, Ambrose. Number one, you come to my apartment and stay, or I go to your place in Vegas."

Dean didn't even seem to breathe, "I don't know if that's a good idea, Irish," he whispers, "It's the first time we will have gone to each other's houses and I really didn't wanna do it while I'm pretty fucked up still and still will be for a couple days. You probably have shit you need to do and people you gotta see outside of work, and-"

"Shut up," Becky said, while using her nails to press into his scalp, "I wouldn't have offered, or demanded rather, if I didn't want to be there. I don't care if we just sit in the dark at your place, you need me to be there for you, whether you admit it or not, and I'm going to be there. Now, whose house are we going to?"

Dean breathed deeply before replying, "Yours please."

Becky nodded, "And would you like to go back to the hotel or stay here for a while?"

Dean replied in the same soft voice, "Here" There was a lengthy pause, the only sound was the soft scratching of her nails on his scalp, before he spoke again, "You can hum again… if you want."

Becky smiled softly, a few more tears escaping at his broken voice, before beginning to hum the same tune that had calmed him before.


End file.
